Recently I have been taking you for granted. For so many years now you have been there for me. Silently, diligently working away and not asking for anything in return. Last night, once again I abused you. Is this some horrific Jeremy Kyle-esque relationship we have? I abuse you over and over again, beating you senseless until I pass out.
I am (just about) sober now, and please know that I regret my actions. I know I can be a real muppet at times, but I really do care. Thanks for taking one for the team, and I apologise for making you work so damn hard. You're a champ.
I'm giving you a week off. Well at least 5 days. Or at least until Monday night.
So I just wanted to make something clear. I love reading people's blogs. Really I do. There are some really talented writers and photographers out there and I feel inspired when I see/read a great post. I'm no writer, I can't compete with most Bloggers. This is my diary. I'm not writing this because I think I can write, or because I aspire to be a writer. I call it straight down the middle, and I tell it exactly how it is. I'm writing this blog for me, to help me deconstruct my thoughts and to make sense of the rollercoaster that is my life. This is a completely uncensored snapshot of my life and I'm not pulling any punches, so just a warning. if you're offended by talk of women, sex and drugs, this is not the place to be.
So last night I finally told Annie I was going to Boston to see Ella. Whoa. She did not take it well at all. She stormed out and I have not heard from her since. Bad times. But hey, it's done now. Just like ripping off a plaster. I hate upsetting people but she would have found out one way or another. I'm hoping she comes round soon and realises that she no longer has any say in what I can or can't do. I feel like it's a weight off my chest, although now there's this horrible storm cloud hovering over us, so hopefully we can patch that up soon.
Last night, Annie mentioned in semi-jest that I need a fuck-buddy. The concept of having a friend with 'benefits' is, in theory, perfect for me. No commitments, no expenditure, and a chance to relieve some stress. In reality, and in my experience, it just doesn't work. You see, here is where I think I am different to 95% of the British Public. I cannot bring myself to kicking a girl out of bed. Regardless of who is round, I always offer them a brew, or I cook them breakfast in the morning. And after sex, I always like to lie there and chat. I can't help it. I guess being in a relationship for 4 years definitely changes you amd you get used to doing 'coupley' things. Sean on the other hand has absolutely no remorse and will happily kick a girl out of bed at 4am after the deed is done. He won't even walk her to her car.
The girls I sleep with generally get too attached. Take Emma for instance. Lovely Emma. She was my rebound after I broke up with Annie and within 2 weeks of seeing each other, she was declaring her undying love for me. Looking back at it, I definitely treated her much more like a girlfriend (like I had treated Annie) than a fuck-buddy. Playfighting, cooking dinner, baking cakes, going for long walks and copious amounts of cuddles. I guess despite being 23 and a half years old, I still can't master this 'being single' malarchy. It's like I am engineered to think and act like a boyfriend. It's all I know. Sometimes I wish I could just be like everyone else round here and sleep around without a care in the world. Or hook up with a girl and then not reply to her texts. Or sleep with someone and then have no qualms about later sleeping with one of her friends.
I'm just being myself though. I guess my parents raised me to have ridiculous strong morals. I've only ever slept with a girl and not text or rung her the next day once, and that's because I was stoned, drunk and at University, as was she. To this day, I have no idea what her name was. Apart from that, I have been raised to be a romantic fuck. Flowers, chocolates, songs, all that rubbish.
Startling Realisation of the Week
Maybe I need to find myself a fuck-buddy.
So I think one of my major problems right now is a lack of self-confidence with regards to the opposite sex. I don't think the anxiety thing has helped at all. I really don't like the way I look and I don't feel comfortable enough to go out and talk to girls. I was watching an episode of The Glee Project yesterday (I do not hide the fact that I watch awful awful TV) and they were given the task of writing a word on their boards which they then had to wear around a busy shopping centre. The word had to represent what they were most insecure about. We had 'anorexic', 'fat', 'used' and 'numb' amongst others. It got me thinking, what would my word have been? Let's brainstorm:
'Numb' - I feel pretty numb. I feel like my past relationship sapped every last bit of energy out of me. It's hard to get motivated to do all of that again.
'Inferior' - I can't help but think "Why would that girl go for me when that guy over there is much better looking?". I am my own worst critic. I don't think I'm bad looking but then again, I don't think I'm a catch. Pulling a girl in a club is usually about looks, so I have to rely on making her laugh or being sweet, which is difficult when I'm lacking self-confidence.
'Different' - I feel like I don't really fit in. As I said above, I'm not only after sex, I'm not going to drink Stella and get into fights and I'm not going to wear Lyle and Scott polo shirts.
'Afro' - Because I have the most unmanageable afro hair in the world. It is my curse and the bane of my existence. Fact.
I guess this all boils down to a lack of self-confidence, and I need to try and boost this. I need to get on a hot streak.
Best Thing To Happen To Me This Week:
Yep, my ticker. It's been great this week. Hardly any palpitations and the breathlessness seems to be going away. I'm feeling flipping awesome and I'm looking forward to an intense gym session this weekend with Papa and Martin.
I'd really like to go to a Roller Disco. There's definitely not enough of them around these days.
So despite the ramblings above, I'm actually in a great mood this evening. I'm looking forward to getting out of the house/office and throwing down some crazy shapes on the dancefloor tomorrow night. I guess I just sometimes feel like everyone has somebody except me. Chris has Katie. Sean has Sarah. Si has Laura/Rach/Claire. Brad has Helen. Martin has Cheryl. Mark has Carlie. Fuck. There is an appalling lack of wingmen right now. But then again, none of them can say they have been in a four-year engagement. It's tough getting back in the game after that, and this is the longest I've ever been single since I was 13.
So I should wrap this up. I wanted to end on a song which has really grown on me this week. Hmm... let's think up an imaginative intro...
This Week's Most Stupendously Awesome Song That Helped Get Me Through A Week Of Monotonous Insurance Work
Luke
Also, if somebody could let me know when I should use capital letters for titles, I'd really appreciate it. This has caused me many a sleepless night. To my knowledge, you don't use a capital if its a little word, like 'a', 'of' or 'the'. But then again, I may have just made that up. I noticed the name of my Blog is 'I Swim For Brighter Days'. Should the 'For' be 'for'? No wonder I haven't become a glorified legendary Blogger yet, I can't even get my title right!
Yesterday I amazed even myself. I smiled, I nodded, I ignored and I proceeded. SNIP. Under unimaginable frustration. Let me explain.
--- RANT BEGINS HERE --- My housemate is a domestic nightmare. Or maybe I am just a domestic Goddess. Regardless, last week I specifically asked Sean to make sure he was free on Tuesday the 26th as the landlord was coming round to fix the cupboard in the kitchen and I couldn't be in as it was my Brother's Birthday. At midday, he emailed me asking what time the landlord was due, as his mates were going to the cinema that evening and he wanted to join them. I told him the earliest I could possibly be back would be 7pm, so he just needed to watch the house from 6 til 7 and then he could go. This meant I had less than an hour round my parents for my younger Brother's Birthday. But hey. SNIP.
I got home at 7pm to find Sean in the living room with Chris and Si, just waiting there for me to get back. The landlord was on his own in the kitchen. Did anyone not ever teach Sean to offer guests a cup of tea? How about friendly small talk? ESPECIALLY the friggin' Landlord. But hey. SNIP.
After around three hours of hard grafting and some serious bonding, the Landlord and I were all done in the kitchen. I cleaned, I put the dishwasher on, I swept the floors and took out the rubbish. Sean got in from the cinema and sat on the sofa on his laptop. He also completely ruined the perfectly placed cushions on the sofa. THEY ARE PURELY DECORATIVE, they are not for sitting on! But hey. SNIP.
So I get up this morning to find that not only has Sean NOT emptied the pedal bin in the bathroom full of empty contact lens packets, but he has now started putting the empty packets ON TOP of the bin. But hey. SNIP.
--- RANT ENDS HERE ---
A year ago, I would have said something to him for any of the above instances. But with just ten months until I leave him to fend for himself, I really don't care. Ten months and I will be out of here and he will never find a more dedicated, knowledgeable housemate than me. I spent half an hour chatting with my Mum about travelling last night, and I also found out my company has offices in Adelaide, Sydney and Melbourne which makes significantly improves my prospects of getting a decent job in the Insurance field in Australia. I'm in the kind of mood right now that I really couldn't care who does what or what happens over the next ten months. I am literally wishing them away; I want next Summer to come around so quickly!
I like to use the word 'Buzzing'. Vickie, one of my housemates at University in Liverpool used to use this word all the time; it's not something we use alot in the South East. I wonder how Vickie is getting on. She was the kind of girl who I would not fuck with. In a fight, you would want her on your side, that's for sure!
My Top 5 Favourite Things Right Now:
5 - The fixed kitchen cupboard. And it's clean! 4 - The fact my hair is growing at record speeds. 3 - Ella coming home from Brasil earlier than expected. 2 - My new Underwear - Greatest. Fit. Ever. 1 - WWE Wrestling.
Yes, wrestling is numero uno right now. I have always been a huge wrestling fan, having watched WCW from 1996 until closure, and then WWF/E onwards, and I will go on record to say that I have not enjoyed watching wrestling this much since 1999. To put it bluntly, right now, WWE is shit hot.
I am looking forward to watching Beaver Falls tonight on E4. Three British lads on a Summer Camp in the USA; it sounds like the perfect show. I can see it being American Pie meets 90210. It's always nice to have new shows on TV.
My Top Favourite People Right Now:
5 - Anna, the bakery girl. Because bread products are my joint-favourite type of food along with dairy. I hope she comes home smelling of freshly baked bread. That's the greatest smell in the world. 4 - Diana and Julia, who I like to call my Charlie's Angels. Except I'm not Charlie. Pfft. Technicalities. I love all my Comments I get on my posts, so thank you so much! 3 - Martin - Because he is my fellow muscle-head, my best mate, my Broski and the only person who will embrace the fact that the gay bar is in fact crawling with beautiful single straight women and the pints are the best in town. 2 - Pixie Lott - Have you seen her new video? Wow. I would eat a whole coconut to spend a night with her. And my God I HATE coconut. I'd even drink the milk inside. Of the coconut. 1 - CM Punk - Single-handedly rekindled my love affair with Wrestling. An absolute hero right now.
"Imagine a future moment in your life where all your dreams come true. You know, it's the greatest moment of your life and you get to experience it with one person. Who's standing next to you?"
Am I allowed to say David Hasselhoff?
I don't know who she is. I mean, I can imagine who I want her to be (Pixie Lott), how she acts (slightly loopy, nymphomaniac), what she looks like (short blonde hair, cute grin, size 10), how she speaks (South African), but to borrrow a line from the charismatic enigma that is Michael Buble, "I just haven't met you yet". I've never met a blonde South African. Do they exist?
Do black Chinese people exist for that matter?
I am optimistic that I will have my laptop back by the weekend, which means my formatting, spelling and use of super cool images in my blog will be back to the exceptionally high standards that I set in... well... never. But pictures are fun. I'm working an 8-hour overtime shift on Saturday followed by 3 hours system testing on Sunday, which I believe will take my overtime total for July to 38 hours of double-time. That's 22 hours more than I need to do. I think I have an addiction to overtime.
"Hi, my name's Luke and I am a Workoholic".
"HI LUKE!!"
I guess it keeps me off the beer and puts money in the pockets. In the last year I have given up smoking, caffeine, dubstep and, apparently, sex, so I guess something had to give.
I am still without my laptop. This is getting seriously frustrating. There's a pretty good possibility that I'll need to buy a new one, which really isn't something I needed right now, 10 months away from travelling. Unfortunately, I have no choice; I need a laptop for Skype, for Blogging and for planning out my travels, booking flights etc. So I'm probably looking at around £300 for a basic laptop which means management can expect to see me in the office every Saturday for the foreseeable future.
I am planning on writing a big post as soon as I can detailing all my travel plans. It would be nice to see everything laid out neatly in one post rather than scribbled across two notebooks. I need to start piecing things together over the next few months, for example, I have realised the Hostel I want to stay in for Christmas and New Years 2012 in Sydney ('Wake Up' Hostel) fills up around 9 months in advance. Good job I checked! I think most of my plans will really kick in after Chrismukkah and the New Year, and I'll need to get routes sorted, flights booked and then start the painful process of trying to talk to Sean about the house. I wonder if he thinks I'm serious about travelling yet. If only he could see this Blog!
I also need to do a budget post. Savings are going very well at the moment and I am way ahead of schedule, but this could all change if the overtime dried up. Fortunately, there has been double-rate overtime available almost without fail since I started on the Claims team, which means if I continue working at my current rate, I'm probably looking at around £2000 above budget. This means I can finish my driving lessons and have a big chunk left over to use as a cushion for when I go travelling. Things are going well, I have been saving for 8 months now and it has been alot easier than I anticipated. I guess when you really set your heart on something, beer and designer clothes don't seem so important anymore. The toughest part is explaining to people that you can't go out and not being able to use "I'm saving to go travelling" as a reason (because most people don't know and I'd rather Management didn't find out). You have to be a tad creative with your excuses after a while. "I'm having my Parents round for dinner". "I'm on a hot date". "I need to get up early in the morning and do the gardening before the landlord comes over". It's not easy staying in when everyone else is out, but it feels fantastic not waking up with a hangover. All of a sudden, my Sunday has become a very productive day!
Anyhow, lots of travel stuff on it's way.
Expecting Annie round this week. I've heard this before.
I just want to get it out the way. I just want to be able to say "Annie, I'm going to see Ella in Boston". And that's it. And she says "OK, that's cool!". I'd even settle with "Well, I'm a little disappointed, but if that's what you want, go for it". Unfortunately, I can only see the conversation going one of two ways. Either she will launch into a tirade of abuse followed by how upset and angry she is, and then proceed to one-up me by doing something to royally piss me off, or she will shrug, say "OK" and then leave without comment. Either way, I can't see her taking me on an ASDA Dark Chocolate run anytime soon.
So, at the pub last week with Martin I updated my list of 'Women I am in love with'. As of 25/07/2011, it reads:
Pixie Lott,
The girl who works at the bakery (I have named her 'Anna'),
The girl who works at the Prince of Wales pub (I knew her name once, Sarah maybe?),
Ella,
Alex Hammond from Sky Sports News.
Any of these women could make an honest man of me. I don't ask for alot. Just accept the fact that when football is on TV, I will be watching it. They call it 'Super Sunday' for a reason. Please also accept the fact that, at times, I will get frustrated at something (DIY, Xbox, painting plant pots and egg cups) and I will metaphorically throw my toys out of the pram. Just leave me be, and within ten minutes I will be fine. And finally, please accept the fact that, although I love cuddles, I will infact always sleep facing away from you (on the side of the bed closest to the door in order to potentially fend of mauraders). This is not because I don't enjoy the cuddles, I just need to be able to stretch my legs out and have one of them outside the duvet to keep me cool (I like to call that 'The Thermostat').
Hmmm... Random ramblings incoming... Let's go!
High Standards.
I don't think I have them. Compared to my friends, yes I probably do. In fact, I would say Sean and I are the only people in our social circle who have any sort of standards. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a shallow person. I don't think I would be writing a Blog if I was. I just think that you need to be attracted to someone in order to have a strong relationship. I guess I just couldn't ever imagine telling a girl how beautiful she looked and not meaning it, unless of course I'm very drunk on a night out and I'm after a one-night stand.
Unfortunately the best looking people also seem to be the most shallow. I've met very few gorgeous women who I can actually have an intellectual conversation with. I think I could count them on one hand. Wait. Yep. 2. Laura W and Ella.
Maybe I'm asking for too much. I get bored very easily, especially with ordinary looking girls. Until I met Annie, I always used to think I had commitment problems, and now I'm beginning to wonder if my standards are indeed too high. Don't get me wrong, I have a rather odd taste in women. I don't care for Angelina, Britney, Christina or any of your typical cookie-cutter choices. I like a girl to look unique. I love the little quirks, whether it be the hair, a scar, a cute mole or a chipped tooth. There has to be something that sets them apart from everyone else. I used to love when Annie would put purple in her hair, or shave part of it. Take Sarah K for instance, my housemate's other half. By all accounts, I am supposed to believe she is 'smoking hot'. Sure, she's slim, she has fantastic breasts and she has good skin, but then again, on any given night in any given club I could find a dozen girls who are just the same.
Quirky. That's what I want from a girl. I want her to look quirky, I want her to act quirky, and I want her to be completely unique. I don't want to be talking about what the weather is like, or how work has been. I don't want to hear about why management want you to remove your cactus from your office desk. I want to be chatting about what kind of superhero power you would have if you had the choice, or what animal you would be? If you won the lottery, what would you buy with your winnings? Would you live in a castle or a mansion? I'd like to sit with my girlfriend and spend a whole night planning out our own Zombie Contingency Plan, and then draw it up on a PDF and print it off. Just incase.
Ultimately, it boils down to the question - Am I asking for too much?
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
Mark Twain
Today has been a good day. Despite the weather, the sheer mountains of work and the realisation that I indeed need to grow my hair back to pre-Magaluf length, I have had a grand day.
Today, 'The Head and The Heart' announced they are playing in Boston on the 30th September, which is fantastic. I'm hoping Ella is a fan of melodic folky pop aswell, although I'm not optimistic. That girl listens to some strange music. I like to look at The Pierces, I don't like to listen to The Pierces.
I'm thinking of asking Martin if he wants to come travelling with me. He did express an interest, but I've always said it's something I need to do on my own. I wanted to 'find' myself so to speak, but I'm toying with the idea of letting him come along because, like me, he is desperate to leave here and he is my best friend. The only problem with this is that I have absolutely no intention of returning to Medway. My dream is to go travelling, find my happy place and stay there. Find work, find love, find a home. In my bedroom right now is a photo of my old 'happy place' - The Charles Bridge in Prague. This was the bridge that I proposed to Annie on and I look at it and remember how happy I was at that moment in time, and how nothing else mattered. Granted, people change and people grow apart and it's time I found a new 'happy place' because, right now, my 'happy place' is on the workout bench in the gym with Martin and a couple of dumbells. It's the only time I feel like I can relax and unwind.
There's no system availability in the office this weekend, which means I have 2 days off. And absolutely no plans. I feel like I have the world at my feet. And all I can think of is that the garden needs weeding and the damp in the loft needs clearing. Sometimes I wish I could live in squalor and not give a damn.
So anyway, tonight I have a sachet of butterscotch Angel Delight and freshly washed bed covers so I plan on sitting in front of the TV and doing absolutely nothing. Meatballs and Pasta followed by The OC and Angel Delight. Ahhh. Let it be noted that Wednesday the 20th of July 2011 has been a great day.
An acronym I've used before in this blog, and something I have been using all too much recently. It's come to the point now that I pretty much live my life according to the Snip religion. Why is it there are so many ignorant, miserable and self-centred people here? People who's sole purpose in life appears to be working in a call centre and belittling people, both inside and outside work. People who would rather resent you for having dreams and ambitions than sort out their own monotonous shallow life.
Of course, smiling, nodding, ignoring and proceeding is probably detrimental to my anxiety. I bottle everything up because I know I only have to put up with these people for another 9 months. I appreciate I'm going to find assholes wherever I go, but the sheer volume of them here is just obscene. Again, I go back to a point I've previously made: people in Medway are completely content with squashing their lives into a tiny box, and then they resent you for not doing the same.
My anxiety has been rough the last week. What if this doesn't clear up by the time I leave? Can I realistically travel with this? Right now I can barely hold a conversation. Breathing is hard enough, and trying to sleep is torture. I must have woke up ten times throughout the night last night.
I really need to get into 'naked butler' shape in time for Boston. It's very difficult to get motivated right now when you're worried you could have a panic attack at any minute, but I'm still squeezing in 3 to 4 sessions a week, albeit less strenuous and thorough.
--- Next Day ---
I've just found out my laptop will be sidelined until at least Friday. Fuck. I hate blogging on my phone.
I went to see the doctor today. My usual guy wasn't in and I had this completely useless numpty who didn't seem to understand that I had had next to no sleep in 48 hours and that I could barely breathe. So no progress.
If this truly is anxiety and the Echocardiogram thingy comes out fine, then I'm determined not to let this beat me. I WILL go travelling. If I'm stressed then I'll find a way to unwind. Some people recommend yoga. I've tried copious amounts of alcohol and fags, and I can categorically say that they do not work. Maybe I should start a new hobby. Maybe I should start sleeping around abit; I don't think anyone can argue that that's a pretty bloody awesome stress relief. Maybe I'll start playing whale music throughout the house, or panpipes...
I'll beat this thing. Thailand is calling. Australia is calling. America is bloody well screaming. Time to look old Mr Anxiety Disorder in the eyes and say "Get the fuck out of my face". Does he not know who the fuck I am?!
Day 3 without my laptop. This life of FIFA and Man vs Food is actually not half bad. So this week has dragged incredibly, and even though I write this on Thursday morning, I still see no light at the end of the tunnel. I am working another 8-hour Overtime shift on Saturday, which effectively means another 1-day weekend. Sunday is Papa's Birthday, so I am relying on Discount Supplements to provide me with much-needed inspiration and next-day delivery. Typically, my Dad would get a tube of pringles and a cheap bottle of Hock and he would be over the moon with that, but I'm thinking this year I'll get him something gym-related. Having 8 Brothers and Sisters has it's downfalls; I dread to think how much I shell out over the course of the year on Birthdays and at Christmas.
Which reminds me, Sean and I finally found the time to watch another episode of The OC last night. And lo and behold, it was a Chrismukkah episode! This got us thinking about Chrismukkah this year and how we can beat last year's effort. If you were not aware, Chrismukkah is the hybrid holiday that combines the best that Christianity (Christmas) and Judaism (Hannukah) have to offer. It's typically for mixed Jewish and Christian families, however due to our ludicrous obsession with anything Orange County, we celebrate it in our humble abode. Last year was our first ever Chrismukkah party and it went down like a storm. This year needs to be bigger, better, and with an extra helping of Chrismukkah miracle.
So I am expecting a visit from Annie tonight. I need to tell her I'm going to Boston in September. I'm torn. With regards to her food and eating, she naturally has 'good' days and 'bad' days. I know 100% that this will anger her, so I'm debating whether it's best to tell her on a good day or a bad day. I can't seem to decide, so I think I'll just tell her this evening, because she needs to know. If she finds out through someone else, she'll be even more angry. Sometimes I wish I didn't care what other people think.
So, this evening should be a barrell of laughs. Good job I have Big Bang Theory to watch post-Annie.
I have been tasked by Ella to write up a list of things I want to do when I'm in Boston. So far, I have:
Sex,
Cuddles,
Beer.
I'd like to see her reaction when I turn up in Boston with these three things scribbled on a Post-It. I need to check to see what's on tap for the arenas in Boston and find out if any of my favourite US bands are playing, because if Jack's Mannequin are performing, I'll be there like swim wear.
--- Next Day ---
Annie didn't show. I should have expected this. After all, I'm always second to whatever else she has planned. So the anticipated fireworks failed to materialise, which is a shame because I was psyched and ready to unleash this particular torpedo of truth. I still have no laptop, which is frustrating. I am writing this post on my work computer, during work hours, because this Fees work is so damn boring. I sure do miss reading people's Blogs and I'm hoping I haven't missed any life-changing revelations.
Last night was tough. I woke up at around 3am with horrific heart palpatations and breathlessness. My heart beat felt so irregular and I was genuinely worried. It took me 45 very uncomfortable minutes to get back to sleep and I came very close to getting up and going downstairs, pouring a Decaff and catching up on Destination X. Nope, that's not a dodgy porno, it's a wrestling PPV. Yep, I still watch wrestling.
Earlier in the week I started working out some figures and sums, and at this moment in time, my savings are around £750 ahead of schedule. This is flipping fantastic considering I have already paid for my flights to Boston. This month I have smashed the overtime again (27hours of double-time after Saturday with 2 more weekends to go this calendar month) so I have a nice cushion in case the overtime dries up. Here is my master plan. Right now I am studying for my next CII Insurance Qualification. I am aiming to complete the remaining two exams I need to get this qualification by the end of the year, which means I want to get the one I am currently studying for passed by the end of September. Then, in the new year I will start my driving lessons again (having already done 40 hours or so) and aim to pass my driving test by the end of March. That gives me 2 months (April and May) to tie up all the loose ends and sell all my belongings.
I have a collection of WCW Videos in my loft, probably around 20. I don't want to sell them. Granted, they are worth at least £100, but they are my babies! If I have to sell them, I think I will cry. Macho, manly tears.
Last night was absolutely perfect. Death Cab were stunning. I was blown away by how good they sounded live, and the atmosphere inside Brixton Academy was brilliant. To be surrounded by so many people with the same taste in music was surreal considering almost everyone I have spoken to since have never even heard of Death Cab for Cutie. They literally took my breath away and it was by far the best gig I have ever been to.
Today was spent trying to keep my head up at work and trying to find someone else who knew who Death Cab were. It's 1900hrs and I still need to eat, but I have every intention of getting to bed by 2000hrs. I am exhausted. But just physically at the moment. Mentally, I feel good; I don't feel stressed or angsty (is that even a word?!) and I am relaxed. Probably the Beta Blockers, that. Tomorrow I'm up at stupid o'clock for 8 more hours of double-rate overtime and then a session in the gym. No rest for the wicked.
Annie brought up an interesting point last night. She mentioned the engagement ring I bought her, which she still has in her safe. I have always said to her I don't want it back, I wanted her to keep it. You know, think of me in five or ten years time when her life is miserable and lonely and remember how good she had it. Yesterday, she said she was thinking of asking me if she could sell it, and split the cash 50/50 to put in our respective savings (she is leaving for Australia in December). It's a difficult situation. The ring itself is worth around £1200 retail value. I'm not sure how much we would get selling it, but I can't decide if I'm comfortable with selling it. A ring isn't just an expensive piece of jewellery; it's a memento in the same way a photo or a family heirloom is. I'm not sure you can put a price on that.
Or is it? Maybe it is just an expensive piece of jewellery. Why keep it when Annie and I have very little emotional attachment? Perhaps it's just an unnecessary reminder of the past and how much has changed.
On Saturday night I met a lovely girl named Vicky. She is tall, glamorous, she's a surfer (which is really hot) and she seems very keen. One year ago, I would have already sent countless texts and organised a date (Hello Emma / Steph / Richaine!). But now, I can categorically say I have absolutely no interest in her, or anyone for that matter. She's a lovely girl, but I find that every other text I send her is in some way related to travelling.
"Oh I don't drive, I can't afford to run a car, pay the rent AND save for travelling at the same time."
"Saturday I'll be working overtime, you know, to pay for travelling."
"I'm not sure what I want to be. I just want to go travelling and hope I find my way during that."
"Oh I'm just eating meatballs and pasta. Your steak sounds lovely. I wish I could afford steak, but I'm saving to go travelling."
Granted, I should tell this poor girl I'm really not looking for anything serious right now. I should probably do that soon. I guess sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind and I need to let her know where I stand as soon as possible.
Plus she is freakishly tall. I'm maybe 6'2", and she is at least the same height as me. I could never date someone taller than me. I like a girl I can throw around abit in the bedroom, usually someone quite short and spritey.
I think if my friends and family knew some of the things I did with regards to saving, they would send me to a shrink. Here's a snippet. I have a budget of £1.50 for every evening meal I have. However, I like to keep this to around £1 a meal in case something unexpected comes up. I walk around Tesco working out in my head how much I have left to spend. I take a trip to Sainsbury's once a week just to pick up digestive biscuits because the pack is around 20% bigger than the equivalent packet in Tesco. Up until last week they cost 28p, but now they are 30p. I know that Tesco Value Baked Beans are fine, as long as you drain abit of the juice and add a blob of ketchup and mix it in. The Tesco Corned Beef Hash (5 for £4) is actually considerably nicer than the more expensive version, and I consider myself to be somewhat of a corned beef hash connoisseur. You cannot economise on toothpaste or hair products.
I also can't have the volume on the TV as an odd number. Unless it's a multiple of 5. Just saying.
So anyway, I'm going to try and not drink for the rest of July. I've drunk far too much over the last month and I have 83 days to get into 'naked butler' shape for Ella. I have Death Cab tomorrow which I can't wait for, although I worry Annie could completely ruin the whole experience with her incessant sulking and whining. We shall see. I'm hoping I wake up tomorrow morning with my 'optimistic' head on. And I'll wear my lucky boxers too. My shamrock boxers, seeing as I am Northern Irish. Primark. £1 in the sale. I'm classy like that.
I lied when I said I wasn't interested in anyone earlier. The cute foreign girl who works in the bakery stall in the Pentagon. I see her maybe once a week. She's a short funny little thing, maybe Polish, or Slovakian or something. Sean doesn't really see the appeal, but I think she's adorable. I imagine her name is Sara or Petra or something cute. Today Sean wasn't walking in with me (he was in Newcastle for a work meeting) so I was all alone, walking through the Pentagon. And there she is. Nobody around. And I bloody froze. You know in movies when there's that awkward nerdy guy that can't pluck up the courage to ask the girl out and everyone is thinking "Awww!!"... well this was NOTHING like that. It was savage and I am a sad, pathetic excuse for a man. I must have forgotten to put on my 'Barney Stinson' head this morning. It was the perfect opportunity to say hello, spark up a conversation, break the ice, but I just froze. Smooth.
A girl that can bake me Belgian Buns every morning, well, that's a keeper.
So I leave this post with a song. I think this is probably my favourite ever live performance, and love him or hate him, I urge you to watch this. Watch the video as well as listen to the song, because this is the song that nearly brought a fully-grown alpha male to tears. Nearly.
I work to live, I don't live to work. If I had a dollar for every time somebody told me I was working too hard, I would have enough dollars to pay for a fancy seafood dinner at the Barking Crab every night in Boston when I go there in September.
People have always said to me "Luke, it's not about the quantity, it's about the quality". So why is it so wrong that I am fully prepared to wish away the next 10 months in order to have the most amazing year of my life? Why are so many people completely content on having two mediocre years as opposed to having one dull year and one breathtaking year? Or is it all about instant gratification? Do ordinary people just live for the moment? Enjoy each day? Maybe I have it wrong.
I was speaking to my parents yesterday and I mentioned what I would do if I came back. That word. "If". I think my Mum was slightly shocked to hear me use that. I'm not sure she realises that when I leave for travelling, I do not plan on coming back to Kent. I might not come back at all. Who's to say that I won't fall in love with Australia and never want to return? Granted, odds are that I'll come back to the UK. I love my family dearly, and I know leaving them for travelling will be the hardest part.
Speaking to Martin in the Barbers, I didn't realise he had similar thoughts flying around in his head. He wants to be a Miami Muscle-head. Sure, I don't think he's looked into it in as much detail as I have, but the idea is there. Which reminds me, I must keep up-to-date re the Green Card Lottery. I'm going to be all over that like a cheap suit. I love being born in Northern Ireland.
So I'll be putting in another 8-hour shift this Saturday, which means my 16 hours for July are done. It's likely I'll end the month on around 30, as I just can't bring myself to only doing 16. See, I have worked out this fantastic method of motivating myself: One hour of work on a Saturday pays for one day in Thailand. So effectively, for every overtime hour I work this year, there's another 24 hours I don't need to work next year. If my office knew I was jetting off, I would so have that on a Post-It on one of my monitors.
Death Cab on Thursday. If they don't play 'I Will Follow You Into The Dark' I think I will cry. I am well and truly buzzing.
Apparently they have loads and loads of flavours of Pop-Tarts in the US. We have Chocolate and Strawberry over here and they cost around £2 a box, which is fucking extortionate. If any of my lovely American followers can confirm or deny this rumour, I would really appreciate it. If the number of flavours reaches double figures, I'm going to cancel my return flight home from Boston. Or I'm going to order extra luggage allowance.
I found my identical hair twin. Finally. Novak Djokovic. When my hair hasn't been flattened with a beanie, gelled, or mutilated by a turkish man, it looks like Djoko's hair. Congrats to the man, he won Wimbledon AND he became my identical hair twin, all in the same week. I'm not sure what honour is more prestigious.
I have 85 days left to get back into pre-Magaluf shape, which means I'm back up to two large protein shakes a day and 3 large trips to the toilet a day. Great. I refuse to get back on the tuna though. Almost 2 years I had a tin of tuna every day. I am sticking to my Billy Bear sandwiches from now on thank you very much.
Sometimes when I write my Blog, I feel like the comedian Tim Vine. I feel like nothing ever really connects and I'm just reeling off random musings. If only I was as funny as him.
